People told me how lucky I was.
But I often wondered what kind of luck leaves you eating dinner alone every night.
Every Christmas, I set an extra place at the table for Mary Lou.
I cooked her favorite stew.
I imagined hearing her footsteps coming through the front door.
And when the house became quiet again, I cried where nobody could see me.
Twelve years.
Twelve birthdays.
Twelve Christmases.
Twelve years is far too long for a mother to go without holding her child.
Finally, I made a decision.
I was going to Korea.
I didn’t tell Mary Lou.
For a sixty-three-year-old woman who had never left the country, the idea felt almost ridiculous.
But one morning, with trembling hands and a heart full of fear, I opened my laptop and bought the ticket.
I believed I was traveling halfway across the world to surprise my daughter.
I had no idea that the journey waiting for me would uncover secrets I had never imagined and change everything I thought I knew about her life.
